Educating Ms Parker
by Giton
Summary: Making Ms Parker understand her Inner Sense can be difficult (reposted)
1. Education

Disclaimer: "The Pretender" is a protected trademark and I'm Just borrowing the characters. I promise to give them back once I've used them, hopefully more or less intact  
  
Title: Educating Ms Parker  
  
Author: Giton  
  
Rating: G  
  
Spoilers: Season 4 Finale, but not necessarily  
  
Keywords: Inner Sense, sequel to Silencing the voices  
  
Summary: Making Ms Parker understand her Inner Sense can be difficult  
  
Educating Ms Parker  
  
By Giton  
  
Sydney's front-room, Friday, early in the evening  
  
"Stop broadcasting so loudly, Parker," said Sydney, letting go of Ms Parker's hands and pressing his own hands to the sides of his head as if that could stop her shouting inside his skull. Well, letting go of her hands had helped a bit. His own Inner Sense worked better while he was in physical contact with a person. Unfortunately it also worked rather well when he was in close proximity.  
  
"Sorry, Sydney, didn't mean to."  
  
"It's not your fault, Parker. I should be teaching you better. Let's leave it for half an hour before we try again, okay?" he was rubbing his temples painfully. Her last "broadcast" had given him a pounding headache.  
  
Some weeks earlier  
  
As he had expected, she had come to him shortly after finding out about her Inner Sense. Asking him the same question her mother had asked him all these years ago. "Help me understand it, Sydney, please! It's driving me insane! I don't know which thoughts are mine and which are other people's."  
  
Of course he had agreed to help her, could he do otherwise? He had not been able to deny her mother, why would it be any different with the daughter?  
  
He had decided that it would be better to have the sessions at his home, away from the prying eyes and ears of the Centre.  
  
Ms Parker had a difficult time trying to understand what was happening to her. Her mother's voice was coming to her unbidden. It was advising her, telling to trust her Inner Sense but she could make no sense of it. There were other voices too. She wasn't sure anymore whether the voices were genuine or her own imagination running riot. Finally she had turned to Sydney, having homed in on his Inner Sense.  
  
"What's happening to me, Syd?" she had asked pleadingly.  
  
"It's your Inner Sense, Ms Parker."  
  
"Yeah, right, that's what my mother's voice is telling me, but I still don't understand what it is and why me?"  
  
"It's the gift. or the curse," he added softly, "that your mother passed down to you. That's the 'Why'. It had lain dormant in you, Parker. I have seen glimpses of it over the years but you had a natural talent, totally unknown to you, to block it. I didn't want to force the issue. Or maybe I had hoped that it wouldn't develop. For the 'What', we have to establish to what extent you have this ability, which direction it is going and than how to help you control it."  
  
"You mean you don't have a straightforward answer what this is?"  
  
"Each individual has it in a different form or sometimes even forms. Some have developed stronger senses some weaker. Some have never known how to tap into it and are blissfully unaware. Some have learned to control it, use it to their own or other people's advantage. And some have let it control them completely and ended insane. No, Ms Parker, there is no straightforward explanation. If it is any consolation, I think yours was triggered when you found out about Ethan."  
  
"Does that make me a freak like Angelo or Ethan," Ms Parker asked softly.  
  
Sydney smiled gently at her and cupped her chin in his hand, staring directly into her eyes, he asked her softly, "Do you really see Angelo or Ethan as freaks? They are different, yes, and had the Centre not twisted their minds you might have passed them in the street and not even known they were special. Am I a freak to you? Or was your mother?"  
  
"Why you, Sydney?" she asked in wonderment  
  
"You know the answer, Parker. Why else did you come to see me about it?"  
  
"I just wanted to know what is happening to me."  
  
"With time, we will find out."  
  
That's when they decided to have the sessions.  
  
Friday-evening  
  
"It is all so frustrating, Sydney," she said when they had settled down, after Sydney had downed a few aspirins to help ease the headache, "We had, what, three sessions now and I still don't know what is wrong with me."  
  
"There is nothing wrong with you, Parker, on the contrary. As I said before, it is an extra sense. To some it's a gift, to some a curse. See it as an extra arm. It can be handy sometimes or very much in the way of doing things. I'm here to help you control it. Once controlled it might act as a gift."  
  
"Why do you keep contradicting it?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, you keep saying it is a gift, but than on the other hand that it could also be a curse. Why?"  
  
"Ah, I see what you mean. I meant, if it can be controlled it can be wonderful, to you and others you might be able to help. If it's uncontrollable, when it is intruding rather than helping, it can be a curse. Look at Angelo. He's an empath, He can't control it, he feels other people's emotion very strongly and he can't shut it down. It's driving him to the point of insanity. Ethan only controls it to an extent. Luckily he's faring better now since he's learning to control it.  
  
In the end your mother was finally able to control it. With it she helped many children in the Centre. Unfortunately, the Centre's policies stood in the way."  
  
"What about yours, Sydney?"  
  
"What about mine?" he asked evasively.  
  
"Is it a curse or a gift to you?"  
  
"A bit of both really," he answered truthfully, "Luckily mine did not develop until I was in my teens. I would have gone insane if it had developed when I was still in Dachau. For a while I saw it as a blessing, when I was able to help others with it. But something happened, which made me shut it down for quite some time. I was able to help your mother. And then the Centre's policies." he did not continue. She had no need to fill in the blanks.  
  
"Did Jacob have it?"  
  
"Yes, but his was not as strong as mine, except when we were together. He treated it as fun, as he did with most things in life."  
  
"What is mine?"  
  
"Well, for one thing we have established you are a receiver," he explained when he saw the questioning frown on her face, "Its evident so far that you can pick up messages from, for want of a better term, ghosts like your mother. We don't know yet if you can receive messages in the telepathic sense. You sensed me, but to what an extent you can receive, needs to be seen.  
  
You must be able to send them, judging by the "loudness" (-he rubbed his temple with one hand and a smile on his face-) but we don't know its range yet. A combination of sending and receiving is not uncommon. You might even be mildly empathic.  
  
As you can see, it is not easy to pinpoint your ability yet. I know it is difficult but you have to have some patience."  
  
He saw that she tried hard to understand, He also saw her impatience bubbling to the surface.  
  
"You want to try again?"  
  
"If you're up to it.  
  
They were sitting opposite each other. As before, Sydney lightly held her hand in his own. Their eyes were closed to help them concentrate. Sydney's soft and gentle voice guided her along, "Okay! Try to relax," he said, keeping his own Inner Sense tightly in control while still monitoring hers, "That's it. Now, try to open up your mind. slowly, don't rush it. Picture something which made you happy."  
  
Although he had been prepared to the way she transmitted, the vibrancy of the colours she was projecting nearly blinded him, "Easy, Parker," he said in a tight voice, "Don't push it too hard."  
  
The colours toned down somewhat, "That's it. It will be less of a strain to yourself and others if you do it gently. Now try and make the picture clearer, as if you are standing away from it."  
  
Her mind grasped the concept quickly this time. The vibrant colours became less vivid and it was as if she was stepping away from it, as Sydney had instructed. The picture became clearer too and showed Mrs Parker holding the younger self of Ms Parker in her arms, softly the song of lullaby could be heard in Sydney's mind and he recognised Catherine Parker's voice. It nearly brought tears to his eyes when he heard her voice. He kept himself under control.  
  
"Okay, Ms Parker, remember the feeling. This is a memory. It will have a distinct difference to the voices when you hear them. It is crucial that you will be able to distinguish between the two."  
  
He took a deep breath and allowed himself to open up more, "Now don't be alarmed but I will try and talk to you in your mind. Ready?" He felt her acquiesce.  
  
His breathing deepened with his concentration, he didn't want to scare her. She felt a prickling sensation at the base of her skull as if someone was watching her. Within a heartbeat he was on her plane of mind. She had chosen to be in her office, strange that she would choose that particular spot as a place of security.  
  
She looked at Sydney in amazement. He looked younger, not by a lot but definitely younger, and he seemed to be lit from within. It had a very calming effect. He smiled at her. His words were gentle, like a caressing breeze, almost hypnotic. "Can you hear me, Ms Parker?" Her mind-self nodded. "Would you like to try and talk to me too? But will you try and be gentle this time? Like you're having a normal conversation. I am close by, so you don't have to speak very loudly. Will you try?"  
  
She opened her mouth and although it was not as loud as earlier sessions she still needed some time to adjust to the skill. "Why do you look different, Sydney?"  
  
"I was not aware of it."  
  
"You look younger, but not by much and you glow!"  
  
"Part of it is what I want you to see and part of it is how you see me. The glow is my life-force. The happier and healthier I am, the stronger the glow."  
  
"Do I look different to you?"  
  
"Yes," he smiled at her, "More gentle than you normally show yourself in real life. It suits you."  
  
She shyly smiled back at him and by doing so a gentle light started to pulse within her. On another level Sydney pitied the lost years that could have changed her into this lovely woman rather than the cold person she projected in the Centre.  
  
"Remember the feeling that comes with talking on this level. Can you feel the difference between a memory and a telepathic contact?" She nodded again.  
  
"Good, we leave it at that for the moment. Next we will try and contact one of your voices," he saw her shudder in anticipation and at the same time nervous at the prospect. "Don't be worried, it will be alright. We just need to give it a bit of time."  
  
She felt him retreat and then he was gone from her mind. It left her with a feeling of emptiness and she opened her eyes. She felt tired as if she had just ran a mile at top speed.  
  
She looked over at Sydney, who had let go of her hand. A sheen of perspiration had appeared on his forehead and she grew alarmed when she saw how tired he looked.  
  
Again he smiled at her, "Don't worry, Ms Parker, I am just a bit rusty in the use of my Inner Sense. Just give me a couple of minutes and I will feel all right. How are you feeling?"  
  
"A bit tired as well. Is that normal, Sydney?"  
  
He nodded, closed his eyes briefly and took a couple of deep breaths, "In the beginning, certainly. It should be getting easier with the practise in the use. You don't feel too strained?"  
  
"No. As a matter of fact it seemed harder when you told me to "talk" to you quietly."  
  
"That is because you were concentrating on controlling it."  
  
"I feel very hungry, though."  
  
He smiled his boyish grin, "It is a minor side-effect."  
  
She smiled mischievously an raised an eyebrow, "Any other side-effects?"  
  
"Only when you concentrate too hard and over an extended period. It might drain you as if the energy is running out of you. You have to be careful not to overextend yourself."  
  
"I promise to be careful. Shall I cook or will you?"  
  
He laughed, "You have many qualities, Ms Parker, but I think I will do the cooking."  
  
She followed him into the kitchen and perched on one of the stools while she watched him cooking their meal.  
  
"Why did you stop using it, Sydney?"  
  
He had his back to her but for a moment there was hesitation in his movements and she saw his back tense, "I don't want to talk about that, Ms Parker."  
  
"How can I understand mine if I have no example what it could do, bad or worse?"  
  
He stopped what he was doing but still had his back to her, his body leaning on his arms on the countertop, "I might tell you later, Ms Parker, at the moment I don't think it will further your education if I tell you why. I. don't want to talk about it now. So, no more questions about that, okay?" He sounded harsh but for the moment he had prepared himself to be strong for her. There was no need to burden her with his problems.  
  
Ms Parker scowled. "There he goes again," she thought, "trusting me one minute and keeping secrets from me the next minute. If he's not going to tell me in words and if I really have the abilities he thinks I have, I will find out myself. No more secrets!" Her lips curled into a nasty smile and she was glad Sydney had his back to her.  
  
Sydney had picked up her thoughts or rather the emotions and he wondered if he was creating a monster by helping her understand her abilities. He sighed. He had to keep a tight rein on his thoughts when they were doing sessions together, he could see that. He went back to preparing the food.  
  
After they had finished their meal Ms Parker became impatient again, eager for another try and wanting to learn more, fast. "Let's try again, Sydney."  
  
"We have only just finished eating, Ms Parker!" But he could see the eagerness in her eyes and he knew he couldn't deny her. "Okay, let's clear this away first and then move to the living-room."  
  
When they sat down once more, Sydney told her to relax and to go through the breathing exercises to enable her to open her mind. He held her hand lightly, sitting next to her and doing the same exercises. They would be trying to tap into her ability to talk to her mother while fully aware.  
  
When he entered her plane this time the scenery had changed from her office to a meadow overlooking Blue Cove. He knew the place well. It was beautiful and calming.  
  
She was leaning against a tree. "Why are we here, Sydney?"  
  
"It's your mind, Parker, you should know why. Have you been here before when your mother's voice spoke to you?"  
  
"No, when she spoke to me before it was just her voice and sometimes her face. was floating somehow. I don't know how to explain it. It is only when I am with you that there is a setting."  
  
He realised that she was trying to accommodate him when he was visiting her mind only she had not realised this herself. "You are more in control of yourself than you know, Little One," he said using the endearing term he had used when she was a little girl.  
  
She looked at him sharply. "Why do you call me that?"  
  
"Sorry, I won't do it again if it is upsetting you. Shall we sit down?" Since she had created a setting where this was possible it might make the progress easier too.  
  
They sat next to each other, looking over Blue Cove. "It's quite nice from up here isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," he said, "One couldn't believe that not all is as beautiful as it seems from up here."  
  
He continued when she stayed comfortable just sitting there, "It's time, Ms Parker. Can you call for your mother?"  
  
She looked startled. Hearing her mother's voice was nice, but deliberately calling her. what if this was all in her imagination? Not real! Was she just cracking up?  
  
"Don't be scared, I am here with you. Try, Ms Parker."  
  
It was funny to see that she closed her eyes on this plane as well to concentrate, "Mother," she called softly, feeling a little foolish doing it consciously, "Are you there?"  
  
Nothing happened the first two times and she was just about to give up when her mother's voice broke through to her, "Yes, Monica, I am here."  
  
With a shock Ms Parker opened her eyes, looked at her mother who was standing in front of her and broke contact so fast that Sydney was hurled back into his own mind again.  
  
Both were aware of their surroundings immediately and were gasping for breath. Both had a nasty headache.  
  
"What happened," asked Ms Parker, rubbing her temples in mirror-fashion to Sydney.  
  
"You broke contact abruptly. Probably the shock of "seeing" your mother."  
  
"I'm sorry, Sydney! I didn't."  
  
"Don't worry, it's just a learning curve, "Is she still there with you?"  
  
"I. I don't think so."  
  
"We'll try again next time. I should have prepared you better."  
  
"But why wasn't I startled when you appeared?"  
  
"You knew I was coming. You weren't prepared for your mother. Part of it was that you didn't believe it could happen. We do it gentler next time."  
  
"Why not now?"  
  
"Am I the only one with a headache?"  
  
"Sorry, Syd. But could we try again, please?"  
  
He gave in against his better judgement. Luckily tomorrow was Saturday and he didn't have to go to the Centre. They started the exercise again.  
  
This time she had chosen her old room in her house. "She learns fast," thought Sydney to himself, "In this setting she would expect her mother to come in."  
  
After she had called for a couple of times, her mother did enter the room via the door, "Hello Monica. Hello Sydney." She smiled at both.  
  
Her appearance nearly brought tears to Sydney's eyes. He hadn't seen her for such a long time and his heart ached for her, "Hello, Catherine," he said softly. Ms Parker looked at him. This was her call wasn't it?  
  
"It has been a long time, Sydney. I tried calling to you, but you seemed to have been closed off for such a long time. Why? Didn't you want to talk to me anymore?"  
  
"It had nothing to do with you, Catherine. I had closed myself to all."  
  
"Pity. And how are you, my Little One?" she had turned to Ms Parker.  
  
Ms Parker looked over at Sydney; this was not him speaking was it? He shook his head. He had not realised that he had used the same endearment for her as her mother had.  
  
She turned back to her mother, "I am fine, thank you. How are you?" The minute she said it she knew it sounded silly, an automatic response to the question. Her mother was dead, how would she feel.  
  
"I am fine too."  
  
"Are you really here?"  
  
"Yes, I am always with you. It's nice I can talk to you now. I have been longing to do that for a long time. It is good that Sydney is teaching you. Listen to him; he helped me as well. I can feel the power strong in you. Sorry, I couldn't be with you for long."  
  
Ms Parker had tears in her eyes. She was happy she could see her mother now as well as hear her.  
  
She saw Sydney retreat, "Don't go, Syd!"  
  
"You want to have some time together. I'll be around, don't worry." He disappeared from view.  
  
Ms Parker turned back to her mother.  
  
Sydney had gently broken the contact. He knew Ms Parker needed some private time with her mother and needed to feel at ease doing so. He also sported a headache the seize of Mount Rushmore and this combined with the anxiety of seeing Catherine Parker, might make the whole situation awkward. He knew she would be visiting him soon anyway. He wasn't sure whether he was looking forward to it.  
  
He was tired but he also knew Ms Parker wanted to test her skills and he could do without her probing into his mind as an exercise. He closed his eyes for a moment without the intention of dozing off.  
  
Ms Parker had relished the little time she had with her mother alone. And although she felt the emptiness when her mother had retreated, she knew she was close by and could be tapped into whenever she needed her.  
  
Almost like a little girl with a new toy she wanted more. Play with it. Feel for its boundaries.  
  
She let out her tendrils, the way Sydney had shown her a couple of days ago, and she found him but through inexperience "slammed" into his mind. He woke up with a stabbing pain and in reflex had thrown her out of his brain.  
  
"Ms Parker, what were you doing?" he bent over in pain clutching his head. She fared not much better and was gripping her head as well.  
  
"I just wanted to surprise you by entering your mind. Like you showed me, but I think I did it all wrong, didn't I?"  
  
"You might say that again! Ms Parker, please do not even try to attempt this again until you had more experience, unless you want to give someone else a headache, preferably not me."  
  
"Okay, Sydney," she said demurely. She scolded herself for trying to invade his mind, a more experienced mind who could detect her easily. She had to be more careful next time.  
  
He knew what she had planned to do and had therefore created a security- barrier before resting, just in case he would doze off (which he had done) and she would attempt to invade his mind (which she had done). He had not been prepared for the force she was using to break into his mind and now he had paid the price for it.  
  
When he attempted to sit up the room in front of him seemed to be spinning and made him feel nauseous. Sit quietly for a moment, no use. Although getting up made the spinning of the room more violent, it was either that or throw up in the living room. He staggered quickly out of the room and headed for the toilet. He only just made it.  
  
"What was that all about," thought Ms Parker when she heard the violent retching sound.  
  
When Sydney came back he was as white as a sheet. "What's wrong, Sydney," she asked worriedly.  
  
After scraping his throat a few times, he said hoarsely, "Headache got out of hand. I am not so young anymore, Ms Parker, and I suggest we call it a day. Wouldn't you agree? (-she nodded-) I will turn in now. We can proceed tomorrow but this old man needs his rest. Will you be alright? You know where to find everything? Good, I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight." He all but stumbled out of the room.  
  
She had agreed to stay overnight in the guest bedroom. Both of them not knowing how long the sessions were going to last, nor as Sydney said, would it be wise to drive home after a session. And although she wasn't sleepy yet she could see what he meant and also understood why he had to throw up. Her headache wasn't as bad, but it was borderline.  
  
She opted for reading a book before turning in.  
  
Saturday  
  
The next morning saw her bright and early, although there was no sign of Sydney yet. She made some coffee, partly to kill the time. Sydney rose another hour later. "Slept well, Ms Parker?" he inquired, looking only slightly better than before he went to bed the night before.  
  
"I did, yes, but did you? You look terrible!"  
  
"Thank you for your kind words," he said sarcastically, "but I have to agree it took out more than I expected. Nevertheless, I should be better after we had some breakfast!" He set about preparing it. Ms Parker cringed. She wasn't used to having breakfast, normally a cup of coffee and a cigarette would do her in the morning. She ate the breakfast anyway.  
  
"Sydney, I am really sorry about last night."  
  
"I know. You just wanted to test your newfound skills. I'm not blaming you. And perhaps trying to find more about what makes me tick?" he added in afterthought.  
  
"Well, sort of," she admitted.  
  
"I will tell you everything you want to know, eventually. But I want to keep some things to myself. Not because I don't want you to know but because I am not ready to share them with you yet. Some of the memories are still painful to me and I have to deal with them first. Okay? I tell you what, when you have more experience you are allowed to probe my mind to your heart's content. No more secrets, I promise. 'Till then you will not try to do it again. Promise?"  
  
She nodded, feeling a bit like a small girl who was told off. "No more secrets?"  
  
"No more secrets!"  
  
"Okay, I can live with that!" She cheered up immediately, "Can we try again today?"  
  
"Yes, we will. Although I have the feeling we are moving too fast," he lightened the mood when he saw her disappointment, "You shouldn't forget I am an old man and need my rest as well. So, how about taking in some fresh air? (-she frowned-) You know, the matter you find outside a building, does not come in a package and is not circulated by the Centre's air-vents? You should try it sometimes, it is really good."  
  
She could almost hear Jarod speaking. No second guesses where the Labrat had picked up such an abominable sense of humour. She looked at his face and saw it smile, not just the curve of his mouth but his whole face, wrinkles, eyes and all. How could she refuse?  
  
Continued 


	2. End with a twist

Disclaimer: "The Pretender" is a protected trademark and I'm Just borrowing the characters. I promise to give them back once I've used them, hopefully more or less intact  
  
Title: Educating Ms Parker  
  
Author: Giton  
  
Rating: G  
  
Spoilers: Season 4 Finale, but not necessarily  
  
Keywords: Inner Sense, sequel to Silencing the voices  
  
Summary: Making Ms Parker understand her Inner Sense can be difficult  
  
Educating Ms Parker, part 2  
  
By Giton  
  
They came back shortly before noon. Most of their walk had been in companionable silence and she had to admit it had cleared the cobwebs. Sydney looked more rested too. They were back in the living room.  
  
"What now," she asked Sydney.  
  
"We'll try a few easy exercises first, which will help you to be more in control, then we will test the range. Is that agreeable with you?" She nodded.  
  
Again, as they had done before, they went through the breathing exercises with Sydney still holding her hand to guide her. She was a fast learner and it was mid-afternoon that Sydney called it a halt and proposed a break to get something to eat. They were both hungry now. Sydney was tired but it wasn't as bad as the day before and when she had started to tone her "sound" down the headache wasn't so bad either. Her power of concentration was remarkable and Sydney felt proud to have her as a pupil.  
  
After they had eaten and settled down. He sat in the chair opposite her, not holding her hands. Not guiding her. He wanted her to do this on her own.  
  
He told her to relax and call to him in her mind while he did not join in the breathing exercise. She had to call gently, not shout and concentrate in doing so.  
  
She sat back and relaxed. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She felt the pressure build in her forehead, just over the bridge of her nose and along the ridges of her eyebrows. It was difficult. This time she had a hard time trying to find him. She now realised that most of the time they were going through the exercises he had been helping her along. Doing it on her own was much harder.  
  
He watched her. A small frown appeared over the bridge of her nose a sure sign that she was concentrating hard. He hoped she had remembered how to reach out.  
  
Just calling Sydney didn't seem to work. She changed tactics. He had prompted her that there were many ways to reach that goal and she had to find her own way to make it easy.  
  
She tried picturing him sitting in his chair, then when she had a clear picture of him in her mind she called and "pushed" at the pressure in her forehead at the same time. Bringing her thoughts to the front of her mind, "Sydney?"  
  
"Yes, Ms Parker," his gentle voice was in her mind.  
  
She had done it! She was so elated that she broke contact immediately and opened her eyes. She saw Sydney frowning. "Did I do wrong?" she asked him puzzled.  
  
"No, but you have to do something about your social skills. Just leaving another's mind so fast is not a pleasant experience for the other person. But I forgive you for now," he smiled, "You did remarkably well, actually, on your first try. Yes, you're telepathic as well, congratulations."  
  
"Shall I try again? I promise to be more courteous this time."  
  
"Okay," he said.  
  
And they tried again. This time she found it easier to make contact, say a couple of words and then ease herself out of Sydney's mind.  
  
"Well done, Parker," exclaimed Sydney, "passed with flying colours!"  
  
She was well pleased with herself and felt like a schoolgirl getting high praise from the teacher.  
  
"Anymore?" she asked excitedly.  
  
"Whoa, Ms Parker! Don't you want to practise first? Know the expression, you have to walk before you can run?"  
  
"Sorry, Syd, but I want to learn so much now! And I want to try it out. Can I, for instance, also "talk" to people who are not telepathic?"  
  
"You might be able to send images or even suggestions, but talking in the sense as when we did is rather hard, almost impossible. If they are relaxed or unaware you might be able to come into their minds, they might experience it as a fleeting thought, but be careful how you go about. You will have to practise more to get accomplished to walk around someone else's mind without damaging the memories and the thoughts of the other person. I will teach you how you can accomplish this when we get a bit further in the process."  
  
"Is it because you don't want me to probe into your mind?" she was back towards suspicion again.  
  
"No, Ms Parker," he said wearily, "I have already promised you that when you are ready you can delve to your heart's content. I will be ready for you then. This is just to safeguard that you will not do irreparable damage to other people's brains and regret it."  
  
"Have you done such a thing before and is that why you shut yourself off?"  
  
"Not quite, but you are warm." They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until Ms Parker couldn't contain her impatience any longer, "But are there more tests to see how far I can go?"  
  
"We can find out if you are empathic and in which form."  
  
"How are we going to do that?" she asked eagerly.  
  
He stood up and walked over to the dresser, picked something up and concealed it in his palm. He walked over to where she sat and sat down again. "You will close your eyes and I will place something in your hand and you have to concentrate on the object. Try and tell me what the object is telling you. You don't have to give me a description of the object. It will be rather obvious. What I want to know is what you feel when you have it in your hand. Okay?"  
  
She nodded and closed her eyes. He placed a ring in her hand. She touched it, fingered it, concentrated very hard, but try as she might nothing came to her. In frustration she opened her eyes.  
  
"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Is that bad, Sydney?"  
  
"No, it's just that you are not a telemetrist."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A Telemetrist is a person who can tell where an object has been, who it belongs to and so forth, like a touch-empath but one who works with inanimate objects. I know the principles involved but I can't tell you how it works exactly, since I am not one either."  
  
"But you let me get on with it."  
  
"You wanted to explore your avenues. Just because I am not one didn't mean that you couldn't be one. One does not exclude the other."  
  
"Point taken. What's next?"  
  
He smiled, "Ever so eager, Li. Ms Parker."  
  
She smiled back at him, "It's okay, Sydney, I was only shocked when I heard you use it yesterday. I do remember that you used to call me that when I was a little girl. I first believed that it was only my mother who called me that. And for a moment I thought that you were the one speaking in my mind instead of my mother, so I was upset."  
  
"Understandable. Okay, if you want to do more. I think a thought without projecting it to you and you have to tell me what I'm thinking. Ready?"  
  
She nodded. He sat impassively while thinking of Catherine. It normally made him sad and happy combined. He knew working out what the thought could be would not be easy for her.  
  
She concentrated. She could detect nothing in his features that would give the game away. He could be like a Chinaman sometimes.  
  
She tried to enter his thoughts but he had shielded it. No cheating it said.  
  
There was a prickly sensation at the base of her skull and suddenly her being was filled with an overwhelming sadness that nearly brought tears to her eyes. The hairs on her arm rose and at the same time she wanted to laugh out loud. She thought she recognised . her mother's warmth? It was very confusing. She looked over at him and saw him smile.  
  
"You were thinking about my mother?"  
  
His smile became broader, "Passed with straight A's on that one too."  
  
She leaned back, exhausted but in the way of a job well done. Satisfied, yes, that would describe it better. She smiled back at him, "So, what's your verdict, Freud? Do I pass your muster?"  
  
He smiled sadly at her, "Do you have to ask? You always have, well, bar a few moments."  
  
"Sydney, if my mother had it and I have it as well, does it mean it is genetic?"  
  
"Opinions are divided on the subject. Personally I believe it is, to an extent."  
  
"Does my father have it?"  
  
"Not to my knowledge."  
  
"Or Lyle?"  
  
"I hope not!" he said in mock alarm and then grinned, "No, I don't think so."  
  
"Are my abilities strong?"  
  
"I think so, yes," he was getting mixed feelings from her and suddenly he wasn't quite sure he liked where her questions were leading.  
  
She veered off on a tangent, "Does Jarod have them?"  
  
He was relieved when she voiced her question, "No, his talents are. unique. Don't really think they are like ours, no. Difficult to describe his talents, actually, and I worked with him for over 30 years." He harrumphed, "Fine psychiatrist I make, don't I?"  
  
"Are you my father?" There the question was out.  
  
Although he had expected it, the question took him a little by surprise he managed to answer quickly, "No, although I sometimes wished I was." But there had been hesitation when he said these words and it made her wonder.  
  
"Yeah, sometimes I wished you were too." Was he telling the truth to her?  
  
He could feel her uncertainty and he wished he could say that she wasn't his daughter with his hand on his heart, but he couldn't do that. Oh, he had his doubts as well but the only one who could say for certain was Catherine and she was dead. It would be wistful thinking on his part.  
  
It looked like she hadn't noticed his own musing and he thought that she was still too inexperienced to pick up all the "vibes" yet. "What's for dinner then?" she said jovially, not in the least showing any signs of tiredness.  
  
Sydney glanced at his watch. Seven o'clock already? Time had flown this afternoon. Apart from feeling a lit bit more tired than normal, today everything had gone smoothly.  
  
They moved into the kitchen where he prepared the meal and she sat on her customary stool, watching him. It would be nice if he was her father, she mused. At least the cooking was good.  
  
After they had finished their meal they didn't go back to playing "mind games". They talked about mundane topics. Including a hypothesis: if one could telepathically talk to the animals, like Doctor Doolittle, what would they find there? They retired at 11 o'clock.  
  
Sydney didn't go to sleep immediately although he was more tired than he cared to admit. He called in his mind to Catherine and she had come. Her presence filled him with warmth and he regretted not having been in touch with her for such a long time.  
  
"Hello, Sydney," she said in her gentle voice.  
  
"Hello, Catherine," he answered.  
  
"It has been a long time." He nodded. She continued, "I have tried to reach out to you but you had erected barriers. I was unable to contact you. I thought. you didn't want to speak to me anymore. That you were disgusted with me when you thought I had committed suicide. You were the only known contact I had who could tell me about my daughter. I could see her, but I couldn't touch or speak to her. Why, Sydney? Why have you excluded me from your life?" There were no recriminations in her voice just the urge to understand.  
  
"No, please, Catherine, it wasn't your fault. I knew you couldn't have committed suicide and it was classified at the Centre as "murder", but you had also told me that you would stage your own disappearance. What was I to believe?"  
  
"But the silence?"  
  
"Not of your doing either, Catherine, believe me. I had not used my Inner Sense for nearly a year before you came to ask for my help. After showing you how to handle yours I have used it only sporadically until recently when. Monica came to see me. You see, none of it is your fault!"  
  
She seemed to consider it momentarily, "But why, Sydney?"  
  
"You have to ask, Catherine? Even with my Senses shut down I could feel the ghosts walking the corridors of the Centre. The pain and anguish that is emanating from certain parts of the building; I don't even go near those places if I can help it! I had to shut down or go insane."  
  
"You could have left?"  
  
"And had left Monica and Jarod to the monsters? You saw what they have done to Timmy and Ethan. How could you ask a thing like that of me? I know I'm not fully without blame but leaving wasn't a valid option."  
  
She accepted his explanation. She slowly moved around in his mind. Touching on memories. Some still made him shudder in pleasure. A caress here, a small kiss there. She was very gentle with them. She turned back to him, "How's Monica?"  
  
"As adjusted as could be expected. She's still sad that she's lost Thomas, he was her lover, fiancé. She would have been happy with him and would have probably left the Centre; maybe that's why he was murdered. She's happy and confused by her newfound gifts. And." he felt a bit embarrassed, "she's wondering whether I'm her father, since our abilities are so similar."  
  
She looked at him in surprise, "You mean, you didn't know?"  
  
A feeling of dread gripped him, "What should I have known?" he asked, although he had already guessed the answer.  
  
"You are Monica and Timmy's father!"  
  
He was momentarily stunned, "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you make me believe that Charles was Monica's father and why was Timmy abandoned?"  
  
"You already know the answer. It was safer for all of us."  
  
He was in anguish and it took all his control to keep the contact. She saw this, "I thought you would be happy with the news."  
  
He wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry, "I am with the knowledge! But why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"I thought you knew. I couldn't say it openly without endangering us all. And I thought with your abilities."  
  
"I. I have never pried into other people's minds to find answers."  
  
"You can be so damned principled sometime, Sydney," her smile took the sting out of the words.  
  
"What do I tell Monica?"  
  
"The truth? Didn't you promise 'No more secrets'?"  
  
"But will she believe me? She already believes I erected the barriers deliberately so she can't find out about the truth! Do you really believe she will believe me that I didn't know until now? She'll hate me! To find and loose in one fell swoop, how ironic!"  
  
"You don't know if she will reject or hate you. I'm sorry if I caused you so many problems," she retreated from his mind.  
  
"Catherine, wait, I." but she had already gone. What a fine mess this all was! He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness.  
  
Ms Parker had gone to bed with too many questions on her mind. And she had trouble going to sleep. Trying to contact Sydney telepathically would be pointless, a) he needed his sleep, b) she remembered being thrown out of his mind the day before and c) after yesterday he would have his barriers up. Contacting her mother would be easier. Ghosts don't sleep, do they?  
  
She called to her a number of times before her mother finally answered. She had nearly given up, afraid that she couldn't do it on her own.  
  
"Hallo, Little-one. You seemed troubled, can I help you?"  
  
"I think you might be the only one who can. It came up this afternoon. Is Sydney my father?" her mind-self looked at her mother expectantly.  
  
"That, you have to ask Sydney."  
  
"I did, this afternoon."  
  
"Ask him again. I have already given him the answer," and she disappeared.  
  
Ms Parker opened her eyes, terribly annoyed with the cryptic answer. "Great," she thought, "No matter how old you are, you are still treated like a child by older people who have known you as a child, even by ghosts! Just what I wanted or needed." She scowled, "Ask Sydney!" She had nothing better to do anyway and she couldn't sleep. Why would everyone else be able to!  
  
She put on her dressing-gown and padded down the corridor towards Sydney's bedroom. There was no light shining from under his door. "Sydney? Are you awake? Can I come in and talk, please?"  
  
He had a good idea what she wanted to talk about and asking her for a moment while he put on his dressing gown. Rather then let her come in he ushered her downstairs. It was now midnight and neither was tired.  
  
He walked into the living-room and over to the drinks-cabinet, "Care to join me?"  
  
She said, "Yes," and frowned at the same time. Sydney wasn't known to be a drinker.  
  
After they sat down Ms Parker took the initiative, "I.talked. to my mother and she told me to ask you about my parentage. So, I'm asking."  
  
He looked in his glass and swirled the contents slowly around, "Yes, I had asked your mother the same question tonight and she told me, and believe me Ms Parker this was the first time I knew about it, that I am your biological father!" He was surprised that he was able to say it straight while his mind was still in turmoil about the news. He looked up at her and saw a mixture of surprise, astonishment and anger flit past her features, He had shielded himself from her, not wanting to feel her confusion as well as his own or let his confusion be mixed up with hers.  
  
"You. are my father?"  
  
"It appears to be so, yes."  
  
"But not according to you!" There was anger in her voice.  
  
"In all honesty, I don't know. It's a high probability. Your mother and I.We were. close, for a short while before your father started courting her. They were married quickly after that and when you were born, I naturally assumed."  
  
"If you are my father how can you still call him my father?"  
  
"He has raised you all these years as his own, maybe he believed he was your natural father."  
  
"You don't want to be my father," she scowled at him.  
  
"Ms Parker."  
  
"If you are my father stop calling me that!"  
  
"Okay, Monica. I wanted. want to be your father more than anything else. and Timmy's."  
  
She looked up in astonishment, "Angelo is my brother? That's peachy! Lyle too?"  
  
"No, I don't think Lyle is your brother or at least not my son. Angelo is your twin brother!"  
  
"Great! The resident shrink and the Town-idiot are my family. Any more surprises?"  
  
He shook his head sadly, no more surprises. He could understand her anger. Could she understand his feelings of confusion and loss? "Ms Pa. Monica, if I had known I was your father events might have worked out differently."  
  
"Would it now, Freud? What would you have done to make the difference? Married my mother and be on the run for the rest of your lives?"  
  
He had quietly nodded to her questions and lifted his head at the last one, "I suppose that's why she didn't tell me. She wanted you to have a "normal" and safe live. Somehow she wasn't able to protect Timmy, if she doesn't tell us we might never find out what happened."  
  
"And that's it? We just go back to our normal everyday lives at the Centre, get more screwed up and let bygones be bygones? I just behave as if Mr Parker is still my father and Lyle my brother and you just the shrink who works under me and Angelo the freak that hides in the air-vents. Is that it? Then you can quite happily pretend you have nothing to do with me, because he raised me?"  
  
Even with his defences up her anger was almost palpable, "Mi. Monica, I don't mean to sound."  
  
"You don't mean to do anything!" she spat the words out. "Like you haven't been doing ever since the beginning!"  
  
"That's not true, I."  
  
"Oh, forget it, Sydney. I have done without the comfort of a father for such a long time, Bit late getting used to one now!"  
  
Her words hurt him. He hadn't known she was his daughter but he had always treated her like she was the daughter he thought he would never have. When he had noticed that Mr Parker didn't spend much time with her, either because of corporate duties or other reasons, he had always been there for her as much as possible without risking the ire of the Chairman. He could feel the tears build behind his eyes and the pressure in his chest. He didn't trust his voice to say anything out loud or trust her emotions enough to open up his mind for her in case she would tear it apart.  
  
An angry frown on Ms Parker's face confirmed his suspicions, "You just go and sit there, Sydney? Don't you have anything to say to me, verbally or mentally?"  
  
Her own anger and confusion was building to breaking point. She could quite easily believe that Sydney hadn't know she was his daughter until tonight. Part of her brain remembered the brief moments when he had been there for her, filling the void her fath. Mr Parker was supposed to have filled.  
  
Sydney, taking her to the ballet and then, later, teaching her how to dance for her first prom's night. Sydney, holding her hand when her mother died and gently wiping the tears off her face. It was Sydney who had put a bandage on her knee after she had fallen off her bike the first time. Sydney, comforting her when Thomas died. Yes, Sydney had always been there, more than her father had.  
  
But part of her also needed a scapegoat, someone she could blame for feeling so miserable now. At the moment he was the only one available to vent her anger at and her memory part of her brain slunk off in the shadows for the moment.  
  
"You were my mother's lover. Did you still continue after. Mr Parker married her?"  
  
He shook his head. His principles would never let him date a married woman.  
  
"And I have to believe that?"  
  
He looked at her and sadness filled his heart. He knew why she was doing this but it still didn't make it right. He scraped his throat a few time and in a broken voice he said to her, "Monica, if I had known I had children with the woman I loved with whole my heart, as I did your mother, I would have taken her away from the Centre. I would not even have started working for them. But when your mother started dating Mr Parker I thought she didn't want me to be her husband and I respected her wishes.  
  
We stayed friends but not in the biblical sense, if you know what I mean. She had chosen for. Charles and that was the end of it as far as I was concerned. I had asked her once why she didn't want to see me anymore but she was very evasive. I never got the change to ask her again nor did I feel that I had a right to persuade her to change her mind. She never gave me any indication or hint that she was pregnant with my children. And I, fool that I was, never pursued it any further.  
  
When she started dating him we hardly saw each other. He was very possessive of her. To move on I concentrated on my work then had a short affair with Michelle until they made me believe she was dead."  
  
"It also means that Nicholas is my half-brother!"  
  
He nodded and continued in a soft voice, "All the opportunities to raise any of my children lost to me. Nicholas is now a grown man. We're friendly to each other in an adult manner but not like father and son. Luckily Michelle had found a good man who raised him as his own. I do not want to sully his memory and I am happy that Nicholas and I can be friends at least.  
  
Angelo they turned into. someone with no past or future. Even if I told him, I don't think he would be able to understand what is going on. And you," he looked down in his empty glass, unable to express how he felt. How he had longed since she was a small child to be able to change her into a different woman. A warm and caring woman, like her mother, rather than the "Ice Queen" Mr Parker had turned her into  
  
Resentment to the unfairness of the whole situation bubbled to the surface and he looked up to her again, a small frown greasing his forehead, " .You hate me for something I had no knowledge of. You resent me for something I had no part in. Maybe it is poetical justice for the time I spent at the Centre. Yes, hate me for the experiments I conducted in the name of Science or cowardice, take your pick I don't care. Even for some of the secrets, and promises to others, I kept from you over the years in, what I thought, your own interest. But do not blame me for the conduct of others."  
  
He continued in a more subdued tone, looking down in his glass once more, "I do not expect you to call me "Father" or "Dad" or anything like that, unless you want to. We have known each other too long as otherwise to change that at the drop of a hat. But give me my due for being a friend to you ever since you were a child."  
  
She had been silent for the last part of his dialogue and she knew he was right. She had known him for over thirty years now and knew that what he had just said was the truth. Although he had worked for the Centre all these years she also knew him as a man with more principles than was good for him in a place like the Centre. Oh, he had shown great cowardice as well. Maybe he had not stood up for quite a lot as he could have done, but if he had done so he would also be six foot under by now. But she had seen him stand up against Mr Parker on more than one occasion when he thought matters were taken too far, especially if it had concerned her, Jarod or any of the children.  
  
How many times had she not wished for him to be her father instead of Mr Parker? But now that it was true. Why had she been denied all those years? And her anger and resolve crumbled.  
  
She almost gave him a half smile, "You are right, Sydney. Calling you father now would sound false. I have called you 'Sydney' for so long it suits you better. And I agree it is not fair to blame you for other people's choices. But why did you never ask my other to marry you? Why did you let my. Mr Parker just sweep her away from you?"  
  
"What could I offer her? A beginning psychologist? A new immigrant to the country? Charles could offer her so much more. Money, security, a house, status, a mind not burdened with the past! I couldn't! I wanted her happy and if that was her choice than so be it.  
  
I held you once when you were a baby and I envied Charles for having you. And when the years progressed I had given up hope to have a family of my own. Not knowing I already had three children! In a way all children in the Centre were mine. My responsibility. For better or for worse," he added softly, being close to tears he stopped speaking.  
  
She could almost feel his sadness seeping through his defences and even without her Inner Sense she could see it in his whole demeanour. He had lost and been denied so much. She was almost close to tears herself but whether this was a feeling of sadness for him or for her own loss of not having a caring father when she grew up she couldn't tell, "Still Friends?" she asked tentatively.  
  
He looked up for the first time in a long while and she could see the longing in his eyes, the hope. His half smile which was so familiar to her touched his lips, "Still friends!" He said, feeling happier.  
  
To emphasise his words she could feel his mind open up to her, inviting her in. Trusting her.  
  
She found she had no problems making the transference. No preliminary exercises. He must be helping her. She could feel his "signature" when he did this.  
  
He was waiting for her. Standing in an image of the living room. He "glowed" strongly, a smile on his face. He looked younger, his arms akimbo, letting her make the first step in his mind.  
  
She moved slowly around in the "room", seeing his memories as small fragile panes of glass neatly arranged around the room. When she moved closer she saw that the panes held slow moving pictures and stills. Some were bright happy moments and some dark and sad.  
  
She moved her hand to one of the panes and she felt a slight touch of apprehension emanate from him, but it dissolved quickly. He had let her in, for better or for worse and he didn't fear what was coming.  
  
She looked at the picture again and saw him as a small boy with his family. He looked so happy then. She saw his father, mother, sister and Jacob, an exact copy of Sydney. All were smiling as if looking into a camera.  
  
She moved to the next pane, a dark picture. Despair was radiating from it. It was a memory of when the family was split apart in what apparently must be Dachau. Barbed wire reached towards the sky and the feeling of two boys lost.  
  
A bright pane, in which Sydney and Jacob outrunning everybody at school. They looked quite athletic. She smiled. Somehow she had never pictured him as such.  
  
She moved onward. Bright panes alternated dark panes.  
  
She saw panes of Jarod. Some were happy and radiated the pride Sydney felt for his pupil. Another pane, which showed the happiness Sydney had felt when Jarod escaped. She had always suspected that he wasn't happy in chasing Jarod but here she could see it in plain sight. She smiled at Sydney in understanding before moving on to the next pane.  
  
There was a dark and at the same time bright picture of a small, eleven year old boy. He was happy and sad at the same time. When that memory ended the little boy was dead. She couldn't understand what she was seeing. She didn't recognise the boy. It couldn't have been a child connected to the Centre but she felt he was the reason why Sydney hadn't been using his Inner Sense anymore.  
  
She saw panes of herself, most of them bright ones. She could see his sorrow for her on the day they buried her mother. Pride when she passed with flying colours at the university. Hope when she met Thomas. Disappointment when she started working for the Security detail in the Centre.  
  
She came to the pane, which showed her mother. It was a bright pane and looked stronger than the others. The way Sydney must have seen her. Her mother looked more beautiful than Ms Parker could remember. Even after all these years Sydney's memory of her was like a glowing light. It radiated warmth and kindness. It brought tears to Ms Parker's eyes.  
  
She turned to him, "I've seen enough, Sydney, let's go back."  
  
There was hardly a change in perspective and they were back in the living room sitting opposite each other. She could see his exhaustion of guiding her around his mind. There was hope in his eyes but he kept silent. Leaving it to her to make the first step. Not wanting to push her.  
  
She looked at him with a slight bit of suspicion, "Was this all true, Sydney? Or did you just let me see what I wanted to see?"  
  
His voice was sad and tired, "I had promised, 'when I wanted to show you, no more secrets'. What you saw was. is me. It was what has made me. All the pictures were there, I did not hide any of them nor were they enhanced to "look" better. Did you find what you were looking for?"  
  
Her voice was quiet, "You really did love my mother, did you? (-He nodded-) Even so much that you let her go?"  
  
"What else could I do? I am not a fighter. And she made her choice. If that was what made her happy, or at least that was what she made me believe, than that was fine by me."  
  
"Oh, Sydney," she shook her head in disbelief, "You should have fought for her!"  
  
"No, Mi. Monica, I couldn't and wouldn't. Oh, I know, Jacob said the same thing to me, but I couldn't! I know you don't understand and I can't explain it to you either."  
  
She changed the subject when she saw that he had difficulties with it, it was still, even after all these years, an open wound. He was right, she couldn't understand. "Who was the little boy I saw?"  
  
"Little boy?" he asked with badly faked innocence.  
  
"Yes, about eleven years old. Dead! Don't think he was attached to the Centre."  
  
"Ah, Victor," a look of remembered pain flitted past his features, "He was a lost little boy whom I thought I had saved from an abusive father. I was wrong and he died because of it."  
  
There was a slight annoyance in her voice, "That doesn't explain why you stopped using your abilities."  
  
He looked at her almost pleadingly, as if he was willing her to drop the subject, but she stared adamantly at him. He sighed, "Very well. I had helped him come out of a comatose situation, which had been caused by the abuse by his stepfather. I had told him that he could stand up to the man. I had been able to put that man behind bars. And for a while the boy was happy and leading a normal life. Then the stepfather came home and beat the poor boy to death. I was too late to prevent it. Victor later came to me and accused me of causing his death. Many years later he came to me again and forgave me.  
  
When he came to see me the first time he must have triggered a reaction in me and I couldn't shut my senses down. It was wide open to every thought around me. It was like having a hundred radios around you all tuned to different channels and cranked up loud. I had to shut down or I would've gone insane. I was sick for a while."  
  
Just remembering that painful episode drained all the blood in his face and he looked as if he was going to faint but he kept it under control as he did with almost everything in life.  
  
"And then my mother came to you and you used your Sense again."  
  
He took a deep breath, "Yes. Hers must have been triggered by your birth. She was confused and couldn't understand what was happening to her. She asked my help. She had homed in on me too, just as you did. I couldn't deny her either. She was still my friend and if didn't help her she would have gone insane."  
  
Ms Parker looked at him curiously, "And you never looked at her memories?"  
  
He shook his head, "No. I was there to help her understand what was happening to her. I didn't want to pry into her private thoughts. It wouldn't have been right."  
  
"If only you had."  
  
He stared sadly down, "Yes, if only I had." The tears that had been building behind his eyes for a while now where trying to come to the fore. He swallowed them back. He was going to be strong. He wasn't going to give in to this weakness and made her despise him for being weak.  
  
She saw the turmoil he was in. He still hadn't been able to let it all sink in. Hell, she was still unable to grasp it all. It was worse for him. In a most un-Parker like gesture she felt the urge to comfort him, to take away the pain. She undulated from the chair and moved over to his chair and sat on the armrest. She could feel him tense next to him, uncertain why she had come over. Well, she had to admit to herself that she had always been living up to her reputation of being ruthless and that when she spoke in a voice of honey she was more dangerous than a striking cobra.  
  
She placed her arm around his shoulder and gently eased his body to hers. The tension left him and he let her embrace him. This time it was she who opened her senses to him and let warmth flow from her to him.  
  
It had been a long time that he had let another person come so close to him and her embrace reminded him of the warmth Catherine showed, albeit differently. To Catherine the warmth had come naturally, to Ms Parker. his daughter it came shyly, new found. He could not contain the grief, the anguish and the sorrow any longer.  
  
She could feel his body shake with silent sobs and she moved his head to her shoulder. Stroking his silvery hair gently. "Ssh, it's going to be alright," she thought silently and hoped he understood.  
  
The End 


End file.
